


in the shadows

by 8BitSkeleton



Series: the mothjon prophecies [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Demons, First Meetings, Flirting, M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24368248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8BitSkeleton/pseuds/8BitSkeleton
Summary: Tim goes out on a walk through the woods and finds a tall, dark stranger.Or rather, the stranger finds him.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Tim Stoker
Series: the mothjon prophecies [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748698
Comments: 6
Kudos: 84





	in the shadows

**Author's Note:**

> s/o to jay for betaing this and also creating this world and letting me help w/ its finer details. this one's for u, byoe
> 
> also, the timeline for this is murky & dubiously canon so like. enjoy!

This is the most Tim has run in the few weeks he’s been a werewolf. A full lap of the edge of the forest in… he can’t say, now that he thinks of it. Time flows differently when he’s a full wolf but even with that in mind, he’s aware it can’t have been too long. The sun is just barely sinking beyond the tallest trees, giving his surroundings a barely there glow of almost used up sunlight. He’s panting, tongue lolling out when he smells something… Odd. It’s almost like something’s burning, some kind of fuel source on fire, just the edges of it perceptible enough for his sensitive sense of smell. 

He turns his head up to follow the breeze, the smell trailing away from the nearby creek and into the darker cover of trees. As Tim follows it, the smell surrounds him, coming from everywhere at once. For a second, he feels trapped and unsure, then, the smell stops moving, and he hears a voice from the shade.

“Well now, look at that. A new wolf.”

Tim twists to his left, ears laid back. The thing he first notices is the drink in the man’s hand. It’s a soft pink with dark pearls at the bottom. _Boba_ , Tim thinks. A drink clearly at odds with the rest of his demeanor. The man shakes the drink once, as if knowing Tim is looking at it, while he stands, utterly unconcerned by the wolf, lounging against a tree. His long dark hair seems dyed, betrayed by the way his red roots peek out at the top, though it seems like some kind of fashion statement instead of a lack of maintenance. He wears a long, black duster and dark clothes, knee high boots which look intimidating. There’s a few dark spots on his hands, tattoos of some sort, and a larger tattoo of an eye inked in the middle of his throat. A pair of red wings sprout from his back, pairing well with his reptilian-looking tail. Two little horns barely peek out from the top of his head, completing the devilish ensemble. 

Despite the man’s strange appearance, Tim feels no real danger. He doesn’t have Elias’ obvious malevolence or Peter’s quiet malignance, only the uncertainty of the unknown. Tim has quickly learned that the world is wider than just the ghosts he used to hunt, and that only _some_ of those things mean you harm. He keeps his pack in mind as he shakes his wolf form away, shifting back in stages. He doesn’t let his guard down entirely, though, retaining his pointed ears and sharper than usual teeth as he stands on two legs, shaking his head to accommodate his hair around the fur. 

“Do I… know you?” Tim asks the stranger, voice still ragged from the shift.

The stranger lifts an eyebrow, which Tim only now realizes is made of red-tinted scales. “Nah. We have friends in common, though.” He takes another sip of his drink and pushes off from the tree. “Basira told me there'd been some new developments around here. Didn’t realize they’d be so cute.”

The come-on hits Tim square in the chest. He can’t say he’s not pleased about this new development. He knows how to navigate the waters of flirting very well by now, and he’s always enjoyed a good chase, regardless of who’s doing the pursuing. 

“So you know Daisy,” Tim states, barely too flat to be a question.

The stranger approaches lazily, almost absently. He focuses on his drink, swirling it around in his cup. “I do. And Georgie and Melanie. Been friends for ages. Surprised they didn't mention me yet.”

"Maybe they have," he gives the newcomer a lopsided smile. "Kind of hard to identify you when you haven't given me your name."

The creature's eyes light up with something like mischief and he stops a few feet away, smile growing as he finally meets Tim’s curious look. “I’m Gerard.” He pauses, then amends, “Gerry, to my friends. And you’re Tim.”

The acknowledgement sends a thrill up Tim’s spine, even as caution in him rises. He laughs, hoping that it comes off nonchalant, unbothered. “I am, yeah. I see my reputation precedes me.”

"I'm subscribed to your channel," Gerard admits. 

The caution in him dissipates, replaced instead by flattery. His smile is lopsided, joking. "Funny place to meet a fan. You a stalker?"

"Maybe," Gerry shrugs carelessly. "Wouldn't _you_ like to know?"

"Oh, are you going to leave me clueless?"

"I'm still deciding if you're worth stalking."

Tim barks out a laugh. "When you figure it out, let me know. I'd love to serve you with a restraining order someday."

"Oh, you sweet talker, you."

"I've got more where that came from."

"Oh, I don't doubt it." Gerry's eyes flash then, a dangerous sort of fire lighting them. It makes another thrill run up Tim's spine, sharper than the one before.

“Can I—” Tim stops himself, thinks for a second. Gerry’s eyes are still on him, still as intense. “Would it be rude of me to ask what kind of creature you are? I’m sort of new to this whole… thing.”

The question is apparently very amusing, judging by the way Gerry smiles, all crinkled eyes and sharp teeth peeking out from behind his lips. 

“Hm!” His enthusiasm doesn’t disappear as he looks away, brow furrowing in a mockery of consideration. He brings his hand to his face and Tim can make out the tattoos, then. Dozens of small eyes are printed on every knuckle and the back of his hand. He even spots the top of one on his wrist as Gerry’s sleeve slips down slightly. “Now there’s a question!”

A beat of silence passes before Tim raises his eyebrows in an expectant question. “A question you’ll answer or…?”

Gerry waves him off, drawling, “I’m still deciding.”

“You’ve got a lot to decide on today, don’t you?”

“I like having a lot on my plate. Helps keep my brain active, all the choosing.”

“Who am I to judge brain exercises?”

“A demon.”

“Sorry?”

“I’m a demon.” The smile Gerry flashes has a few too many teeth in it to be charming for most folks, but Tim’s never bothered to count himself amongst the masses. “Also, it wasn’t rude to ask. At least, not to _me_ , it wasn’t. Then again, there’s other creatures out there which aren’t as nice as I am.”

“Your graciousness is noted.”

“Good, I’d hate for it to go unnoted.”

"Well, you're lucky you found me, then."

"Oh, I am, am I?" There’s an odd note in the demon’s voice, and Tim can’t help but feel pleased with himself for it.

"Yeah. I can make note of all your good bits."

"My good bits? Any in particular?" 

Tim smirks widely, giving Gerry a once-over, then says, "I'll let you know once I decide on them."

Gerry's answering guffaw is loud and startling. It's not a sound he expected a demon to make, given his intimidating appearance. But Tim's quickly learning that Gerry might look a certain way but he subverts the expectations however he can. The soft color of his drink, the loud laughter, the borderline goofy way he jumps around with his trains of thought. It's intoxicating, the way they click, as if they'd known each other longer than the ten minutes they'd been standing here. 

"I'll let you know something for free—you're a treat, Timothy Stoker."

"Ohoho! Full name and everything? You're a bigger fan than I gave you credit for. Maybe I should be offering an autograph."

"Would now be a bad time to admit to being a stalker?"

"There are no bad times to admit that."

"Yeah, alright." 

Tim huffs out a laugh, shakes his head. "Now that we're properly acquainted, are you going my way?"

Gerry lifts a scaly eyebrow in question, as if what Tim's asked has any hidden meanings. He supposes it could, a subtle way of asking if Gerry's feeling this immediate connection too, if he'd like to do anything about it…. 

Tim knows that though his question could be misconstrued, he doesn't clear up the doubt in Gerry's eyes, letting him answer whatever meaning he gives it.

"Are you heading back to Georgie's?" Gerry asks finally, eyes still brightly curious. 

"Yeah, reckon I will. Was just out for a run."

"Walking the dog," Gerry smirks. 

Tim smiles at the delightfully bad joke. "Have to do it every day, otherwise he gets restless."

"Sounds like a bad dog."

Despite the fact that he knows it's meant as a joke, Tim still feels a bolt of shame course through him at the words, ears flicking back. He shakes himself, hoping that Gerry hasn't noticed his ridiculous wince. "Depends on who you ask, I guess."

"Then he’s a good dog?"

These words have the inverse effect on Tim, and he feels himself stand a little straighter at the perceived compliment. "You'll have to judge for yourself."

"Oh, I plan to." Gerry's smile is wicked, as if he's reveling in taking stock of Tim's reactions to his words. "Sadly, I’m not headed to the witch house today. You'll just have to go it alone. I have plans… Oh, elsewhere,” He says, teasing and evasive. “Ask Georgie about me, if you want some good character references. Better yet, ask Jon."

"You mean, references that aren’t you being a stalker?"

"Yeah, if you ignore that bit, the rest is easy to swallow."

"So, being a demon's fine but a stalker's where the line is drawn?" Tim quirks an eyebrow.

"Please. I'm a demon, not a monster,” Gerry sniffs, flipping his bangs out of his face with one tattooed hand.

That makes Tim's brow furrow in confusion. He's not knowledgeable enough to pinpoint if that's true or not. And the confusion was apparently exactly what Gerry was aiming for, judging by the smug look on his face.

Before Tim can ask, Gerry turns away from him, oddly abruptly. "We'll see each other again, Tim."

It's so sudden that it takes Tim a second to react. By the time he speaks, Gerry is already past the tree Tim first saw him at. 

"I'll see you later?" He tries, feeling a little out of step.

"Count on it." Gerry's words seem to shimmer in the air, as if by magic or by heat, though Tim can't say which is more likely. 

He blinks and the demon is gone. 

Tim stands there for a second, the odd meeting echoing in his ears when he realizes he should've asked Gerry for his number. He curses his stupidity. Of course, he meets _one_ cute demon and all his game goes out the window. He grumbles a bit, shifting back smoothly to a full wolf. As he drops to his paws, though, he notices a piece of paper flutter to the dirt. It's dark yellow parchment, burnt and torn at the edges but containing the unmistakable scrawl of a phone number on it. On the edge of the paper, he can make out the crisp outline of letters which read ' _Text me xx - G'_

Without hesitation, Tim shifts back in order to stuff the paper into his pocket and walks back to the cottage on his two aching human legs, determined not to risk losing this new spark to the whims of his shifts.

After all, he’s still not entirely certain where his phone goes as a wolf.

**Author's Note:**

> im on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ncvacorps) if u wanna be friends!


End file.
